


'Tis Morning

by dimeliora



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Community: smpc, Frottage, M/M, Topping from the Bottom, Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8814316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimeliora/pseuds/dimeliora
Summary: Sam Winchester, the consort to the Darkling Prince Dean, must journey into the Underworld to find and save his lover.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EosRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EosRose/gifts).



> This is written as a sequel to Orchard Robbing and is for Eosrose who has been patiently waiting for quite some time and to whom I owe the deepest of apologies.

The mist has left the greening plain,   
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,   
The coquette rose awakes again   
Her lovely self adorning.

 

The Wind is hiding in the trees,   
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease,   
Until the rose says "Kiss me, please,"   
'Tis morning, 'tis morning.

 

With staff in hand and careless-free,   
The wanderer fares right jauntily,   
For towns and houses are, thinks he,   
For scorning, for scorning.

My soul is swift upon the wing,   
And in its deeps a song I bring;   
Come, Love, and we together sing,   
"'Tis morning, 'tis morning.

 

Sam knows all the mermaid’s songs, and he likes to sit with them and sing on particularly bright days. The ocean is a long collection of diamonds shining in the sun, and the mermaids brush and braid his hair while they sing together. He knows that he can’t sing as well as them, but he still likes to join in. He likes to be a part of their togetherness. He likes the coolness of the water warring with the heat of the sun. 

But most of all Sam likes the way that Dean hunches down on the rocks near them, staying in the shade and watching over Sam with that little smile of his. 

A hundred paces from the edge of the ocean the forest begins. Sam knows how to get from their little cottage to the sea without trouble, but it seems that no matter how long he lives there the forest is still hard to navigate. Sam has gotten lost countless times trying to find his way from Kheelan the tinkerer’s hut to their own home. He always finds something interesting in his wandering, but eventually he has to sit down and wait for Dean to come for him. 

Dean always does. He slides out from the shadows when Sam is most in need, his smile in place. In the depths of the forest Dean doesn’t wear sunglasses. Sam knows all about Dean now. He knows that Dean is the son of the queen of the Unseelie Fae, a race of Faeries that live in the shade and the night and feed off of the less pleasant of human emotions. He knows that Faeries believe in balance, and that while they feed off of humans and play pranks on them, they very rarely kill them. 

The Seelie, the opposing force to the Unseelie, are not exactly Dean’s enemies but Sam has seen them butt heads on more than one occasion. It is their duty to keep Tir Na Nog beautiful and flourishing, to care for all the flora and fauna. 

It is the Darklings’ job to keep it safe from outside forces. 

When Sam learned this he asked Dean what could possibly want to threaten the land of Eternal Youth. Dean’s response was a simple shrug. 

Everyone still calls Sam the Little Prince, the Consort, but Sam has earned his own place among the Faeries. He has his own binds that he has crafted and nourished. When Dean is away to feed or to work Sam doesn’t sit around waiting for him to return. 

He’s forgotten so much of the human world that he came from. He remembers vaguely his father, and school, but his new life is a hundred times more interesting. When he first came Sam often asked to return to the human world, but he hasn’t been in some time. There’s nothing there that interests him anymore. 

Sam has learned from Kheelan how to build things, and as he’s grown he’s found that his hands are perfectly suited to the work of tinkering. He’s made clocks galore, tiny robots that march across the house and clean the windows, and little mechanical animals that can dance and play. He gives them to the other Faeries as gifts, and Sam enjoys the look of joy that comes over their faces. 

There’s no telling how long he’s been here. Time doesn’t pass the same way in Tir Na Nog as it does in the human world. Sam doesn’t know how old he is now. He looks like he’s at the end of his teenage years, he feels like an adult, and he is treated like he has been there forever. Kheelan speaks frankly about Fae politics to him, the mermaids are alright with him dropping into their circle with no warning, and even the ravens stick around when Sam arrives. 

It’s the ravens that let Sam know that something is wrong. Kheelan has explained to him that the humans call a group of ravens an unkindness. A group of crows is called a murder. Kheelan says that humans instinctively fear the dark birds. That they have many legends that link them to death and darkness. Sam knows that the ravens are certainly pragmatic, that their croaking conversations are often blunt and dark, but he doesn’t find them frightening or off-putting. 

Except today when he joins them they look at each other knowingly and begin to croak back and forth about something Sam is obviously supposed to know but doesn’t. 

“Darkling Prince goes far.” The largest raven croaks thickly.

“Too far.” The unkindness replies.

“Further than we can fly.” The largest raven tilts his head at his colleagues.

Sam steps into the center of them. 

“What? What about Dean?”

The unkindness gives him a knowing look, while the leader hops slightly along the rock to be closer to Sam’s ankles. 

“Darkling Prince has left.” It tilts its head all the way back to look at Sam with its beady, black eyes. 

“Away. Away. To battle.” The unkindness stirs, feathers rustling in the silence of the day and adding to Sam’s sudden anxiety. 

“What battle? What battle has Dean gone to?”

Instead of responding the unkindness lifts as one and flies away leaving their leader behind still staring up at Sam. 

“Darkling Prince must finally choose. For morning. For morning.”

And then the leader is gone as well, and Sam is left alone on the rocks wondering what’s happening and who can explain it to him. 

 

\---

 

“Kheelan? Kheelan! I need to speak with you!”

Dusk is approaching and Dean has still not returned. He always comes back by dusk. 

The little tinkerer arrives at the doorway, his jeweler’s loupe still in his eye and his long fingers stained with some sort of dark liquid. 

“Yes Sam?”

He tries to be logical and calm, but instead Sam feels his racing heart take over his mouth. 

“Dean. Dean hasn’t returned and the unkindness told me that he was going to battle. Do you know where he is? What battle he’s gone to?”

Kheelan opens the door and ushers Sam inside. The hut is the same as always, and Sam moves gears and parts aside so he can sit down on the over-stuffed couch. With time he has grown so tall that he must stoop a bit in Kheelan’s home. Sitting on the couch gives him some clearance between his head and the ceiling, and it reminds him of the many times that he’s been here under better circumstances simply enjoying the tinkerer’s company. 

He watches as the tinkerer stokes the fire, adding a log to it and stepping back so that the firelight dances across his face. The sun is about to set fully, and Sam feels his heartbeat race ahead. The Nightmares will begin to run across the land heading for the human domain. The darker creatures, the ones that look to Dean for guidance and support, will soon begin to play. It’s never been ominous to Sam before. Beautiful, strange, but never ominous. 

Well. Minus the Nightmares. 

Those have always given Sam the chills. The same kind he is feeling right now as Kheelan sits in front of him. 

“Sam. The unkindness is hardly the scholar of these things. They are simply gossips. The Darkling Prince said nothing of a battle. Perhaps he was simply kept away by court business, or something in the human world that required his attention. Either way you may stay here with me tonight until he returns.”

And he considers saying no. He considers getting up and going home to their cottage and waiting for Dean. Will this make him less of a worthy consort? He is old enough he shouldn’t be afraid of these things. He should take Dean returning late with grace. He knows that there’s nothing here that would ever hurt him with his lover’s protection in place. 

“Thank you Kheelan. I would really appreciate that.”

The little tinkerer gathers blankets for Sam and tucks him in, and Sam feels like a child again under the attention. He looks up when long, spindly fingers pet his hair back. 

“Sleep well little prince. It will be alright. Dean will return soon.”

 

When Sam wakes again it is still night, but he knows that this is wrong. 

Outside the owls hoot tiredly and there is the sound of footsteps crashing through the underbrush. Sam sits up too fast and feels his head spin as the door slams open to show one of the Seelie Fae standing in the entrance of Kheelan’s hut staring back at Sam like she is looking at a ghost. 

“Where is the Darkling Prince?”

Kheelan steps out into the open living space and pins Sam with a look before turning to the Fae. 

“The Darkling Prince is away on business. What are you doing out of your bed at such an hour?”

She points one long finger, pale and skeletal in this light, and Sam follows the direction of it and sees one of the many clocks that he has helped Kheelan build. At the top of it sits a happy sun, two small children dancing underneath it, and he feels a chill slide down his spine. 

“It is day tinkerer. Where is the Darkling Prince?”

Outside a raven screams once as the night stubbornly remains. 

 

Sam sits around the fire in the great clearing, his eyes flitting from Fae to Fae as he tries to determine what the conversation will be about. The Seelie and Unseelie sit on opposite sides, staring at each other somewhat mistrustfully as the bonfire is stoked into a greater blaze. 

It is the second day of night, and the usually bright and beautiful colors of the Seelie are washed out and sickly looking under the light of the great moon. The Unseelie look just as unwell to be fair, their dark eyes filled with paranoia and confusion. Kheelan stays close to Sam, and Sam is glad for it. Some that he has come to consider friends mutter quietly while sending him sly looks. Sam isn’t sure that he’s safe at this moment, and he isn’t sure why. 

The muttering stops as a Fae Sam does not know glides out before the fire, his eyes slightly too large for his face and branches and vines tangled into his great antlers. He raises his hands and everyone watches as they cut through the darkness and create two blazing trails of light that merge together into a bright ring. The ring expands, filling itself, and inside of it is an image of Tir Na Nog lit by sunlight and backed by the warmth of the bonfire. The illusion is perfect, and Sam finds himself leaning forward to study it. 

“My subjects, gaze upon the world as it should be. A great crime has been committed. The Darkling Prince has denied the Seelie their right to a champion. He has gone far beyond our lands into a place that we cannot reach to stop us from demanding from him our right. He hides like a coward while his own people weaken and die without the light of the sun.”

Sam feels rage well up, heat suffusing his face as many look at him with distaste and animosity. Sam doesn’t let his natural inclination to sink down and hide take over. Instead he stands up, Kheelan’s hand landing on his forearm, but a voice cuts him off. 

“Oberon. My old friend. This is a rather strong accusation is it not?”

The crowd turns their heads, and Sam joins them to see the woman. She is tall, skin a bluish white that shines in the moonlight and eyes a blue black that suck in the light of the stars and the fire instead of reflecting it. Sam swallows hard. 

“Siobhan. I do not believe it is. You know what we have requested. What your…son has denied us.”

Sam feels his heart skip a beat. Dean has never spoken much about his mother. He has certainly never introduced Sam to her. He fights the urge to straighten his clothes or smooth his wild hair in the presence of her intimidating composure. 

“My son has denied you nothing. Even now he has traveled through the Callanish Stones into the depths of the Hebrides Islands to find you what you have asked for. My son goes where you dare not. Call him a coward again at great risk.”

Sam doesn’t miss the way the shadows gather around her, darkening and deepening. He doesn’t miss how the other Fae lean back with taut faces, how they avoid her dread gaze. With Oberon there was muttering in agreement. With Siobhan there is simply stunned silence. 

“The night has stretched too long Siobhan. The day must come. Your son has forty-eight hours to return the morning, or his bond shall be severed and he shall be left human in the wilderness of Under Hill.”

Sam steps forward then.

“You wouldn’t! Dean is what keeps all of you safe! He’s the one who leads your army and makes sure that you can all do whatever you want! You wouldn’t dare lose Dean!”

Oberon eyes him thoughtfully before stepping forward.

“You love the Darkling Prince enough to risk the wrath of the King of the Seelie Fae?”

And Sam has to clench his fists to keep the power of that hot stare from pushing him down into the dirt. 

“Yes.”

Before Oberon can say whatever he has opened his mouth to say Siobhan cuts in.

“It is settled then. I shall take the human to the Callanish Stones and he will retrieve my son and the morning. When the balance is restored there shall be no more of these threats Oberon. Are we in agreement?”

It is less a question than a taunt, and the Fae King glares at her once before nodding his head. 

They swear to it, and then the circle breaks and the Fae scatter into the darkness. Sam is left alone with Kheelan and Siobhan. He isn’t quite sure what to say. Sam has never considered meeting the woman under these circumstances. 

“Your Majesty I-“

She holds up a hand. 

“None of that. You are my son’s dear love. Come.”

Her arms are out and Sam steps into them and is wrapped in cold, firm flesh. He lets her hold him for several minutes before she pulls back and kisses his forehead. 

“What should I call you then?”

“For the time you will call me Siobhan, but I hope that one day soon you will call me mother as well. In the meantime come with me.”

She links an arm through Sam’s and leads him deeper into the forest. Sam hears noises above them and looks up to see the ravens following along, landing on branches to mutter to one another before flying ahead and waiting again. 

“My son is very special, as you well know, and has earned his title and his place in our society. But he was not always mine. Once, long and long ago, he belonged to a foolish man with an obsession. That man cared little for his sons, and as a result when he was faced with the choice of giving his son up to a monster or ending his quest he chose the quest. Dean became mine in name and blood. But he never forgot his brother. He loved the boy with every breath he took, and there was nothing I could do to stop that.”

Sam thinks back to when he was young and Dean first visited him. He feels a deep pang of envy that makes little sense but cannot be stopped. 

“What did you do Siobhan?”

Her head tilts a little as she leads Sam to the edge of the long tooth rocks on the Eastern shore of Tir Na Nog. She seems to be studying something out across the water, in all that great darkness. 

“I told him that he should do what was best for him. That if he wanted to give up his title he could, but that if he insisted on collecting the boy he would have to face the truth about them.”

Sam doesn’t know where Kheelan has gone. The unkindness gathers around them, muttering thickly in their throats and hopping along the cold gray stone. 

“The truth?”

Cold fingers slide up Sam’s forearm and rub once in a small circle on his elbow. Then Siobhan, the Queen of the Unseelie and the Night, steps back from Sam and points out across the water. 

“On the other side of this expanse is my son, in a battle for his life. If he can recover the other half of himself, if he can collect his brother and make him the opposing side of his coin, then the morning will return and all will be well. If he cannot he will die in the depths of Under Hill below the Callanish Stones. Will you help him? Will you help my son find what he has lost?”

Around Sam the ravens begin to cry “Help Him” and “For Morning”. Sam’s hands shake uncontrollably. 

“Yes. Whatever Dean needs.”

Siobhan smiles, the curl of her lips not terribly pleasant. 

“Remember, this was your choice.”

Before Sam can ask what that means the unkindness swirls around him, and Sam is lifted from the ground and rushed out over the water. 

 

 

He is dropped outside of the Stones, the unkindness swirling around him one more time before they fly off into the darkness and disappear. Sam looks out over the water, towards the forests he knows and the interior of Tir Na Nog. Then he turns back to the stones. 

There’s an opening, dark and mouth-like, and Sam touches the stones around it and feels the cold and slimy surface. 

And then he steps in before anything inside of him can tell him it’s a bad idea. 

Inside it is dark, darker than anything Sam has ever experienced, and he keeps his hand on the slimy and cold stone as he carefully steps further and further into the dark. 

There’s nothing to hear except for his own breathing pinging on the stone around him, and the soft sound of his shoes scraping on the stone and sending little rivers of gravel flying along in front of him down the slight slope. 

Sam keeps walking, stepping light and careful along the ground, until his toes hit something solid and his hands slide forward to find what seems to be a little stone wall. He kneels and leans against it while he feels over the edge for the floor beyond. There’s emptiness. Coldness. 

Dean is somewhere out there. He has to be. There’s nowhere else to go but down, and why would it have been that easy to get into Under Hill?

Sam stands, climbs carefully onto the little ledge, and then leaps into the abyss. 

He hears ravens as he falls.

 

 

When Sam touches down he’s in a cave. There’s light coming from the huge mushrooms that bloom on the ceiling, and water drips steady along the walls and collects on the ground underneath him. Where Sam stands it’s up to his ankles, and colder than ice. 

There doesn’t appear to be anyone nearby, and Sam looks around the seemingly endless chamber before calling out. 

“Dean? Dean!”

He can hear himself echoing back, but it’s all wrong. Instead of panic and desperation, the two feelings Sam is almost overwhelmed with, he hears mocking and hatred. 

Sam sloshes forward, the water getting deeper and deeper with every step. Once it’s up to his armpits he can’t feel his feet anymore. It’s too cold, and he shakes as he pushes further and further into the cave through the almost freezing water. 

Dean. He has to make it to Dean. He thinks over what he knows. 

His lover wasn’t born Fae. Which means the brother that they said that he was looking for is human like Sam. How did he get down here? How did he make it first into Tir Na Nog and then further into the depths of Under Hill?

Perhaps he was placed there. As a test or a punishment. Sam shudders to think that after all this time Dean’s beloved brother will turn out to be someone that isn’t worth his devotion. It would devastate Dean. 

That’s one of the things Sam loves the most about him. His unflinching loyalty. In Sam’s time in Tir Na Nog he’s learned enough about Dean to know that his strength and courage are the least of his positive attributes. Even though those are the ones most prized in his role as the leader of the armies and the Darkling Prince. 

The water is up to his neck. Sam gives up trying to walk and starts swimming. It’s getting colder, all the heat long leached from his body and the feeling quickly following. Sam tries to keep the water out of his mouth, but it eventually starts to slip in. 

He’s cold. So cold. It’s dark and he’s freezing to death, the fungus glowing above him like distant stars and the only sounds the water splashing against the rocks. 

Sam rolls onto his back, unable to keep his head up enough to not ingest more and more of the water as he floats along under the glowing mushrooms trying to make it to a destination he doesn’t know. 

He has to get to Dean. He can’t stop. He can’t give up. Dean has done too much for him for Sam to die here in this underground ocean. The shore is gone from sight, and all that’s left is Sam floating in the twinkling light as he slowly dies. 

Sam closes his eyes, fists clenching as he drags up his resolve, and pictures Dean standing before him. Dean reaching out to him and picking him up. Taking him to happiness. 

And suddenly he’s warm. His feet are on dry ground and Sam feels like he’s been baking in a summer sun. He looks around to see that this is now an empty chamber, lit by two torches with a series of doors on the wall across from him. Sam swallows once before he crosses the room and studies the doors. 

He knows the first one. It’s the door to Uncle Jerry’s house. The one that he ran through. That Dean saved him from. 

The second door is to Kheelan’s Tinkerer’s hut. Sam knows it like the back of his hand. When he touches it the wood is warm and friendly, and Sam leans his head against it and takes a deep breath. 

Sam wants to go through this one. He does. The next door is unfamiliar to him. Completely foreign in both sight and size. It’s taller than the others and made of some kind of stone. Sam looks it over and then turns back to the others. The first is fear. His fear. 

Everything about that time of his life was lonely and terrible. It was when Sam had no control, no hopes, and there was nothing to look forward to. But it was also when Dean came to save him. That was when Sam’s whole life changed for the better. 

The middle door is happiness, and Sam still wants it the most. Who knows what stands behind it? Maybe it actually opens back to Kheelan and the center of Tir Na Nog. Maybe Sam can walk through it back into the best parts of his life. 

Or maybe it will lead to nothing at all. A foolish lead into despair. Faerie Fire they call it, and Sam has seen the lights moving through the woods at night. 

It’s the last door Sam steps back to. It’s the unknown. That’s the whole point of this isn’t it? Not what’s come before, not what Sam can count on or quantify. It’s stepping into the unknown to find Dean and bring him back. It’s fighting for what he considers most important. Not just Dean, although that is his first priority, but for the world that’s become his and the Fae that have taken him in. 

Sam’s doing this for Dean, for himself, and for all the Fae both Seelie and Unseelie that he has bonded with. 

He pushes open the stone door and steps into the light inside. 

 

On the other side Sam finds fire. So much fire. It climbs the walls in sheets, dances in swirls over the floor, and licks at the tips of his shoes. Sam steps back but the door has closed behind him. Sweat is already starting to pour down his face and soak his shirt. 

Sam tries to find a path through the room that won’t include him burning, but he can’t seem to spot a way. As it is he’s lucky that it’s not coming any closer or he’d be a torch. 

There’s a door across the room, made of fire it seems, and Sam swallows hard as he weighs his options. 

And then he hears it. 

“Sammy? Sammy?!?”

It’s coming from beyond the fire door, and Sam looks around again but there’s no way to it. 

There’s no way to get around, so Sam has to go through the inferno. 

So Sam takes a deep breath and steps into the fire. It’s hot. So hot. Sam feels the soles of his shoes melting instantly, and with each step he takes it gets worse. Eventually the soles are gone, and the shoes are burning off too. Sam’s pants catch fire and he panics for a moment slapping at the flames before he gives up and starts to move faster. 

His clothes are burning to cinders. He’s got part of a shirt left, his underwear is now burning off, and Sam is just starting to realize that despite how hot it is, how utterly destroyed his clothes are, his skin is not bubbling or blistering. His hair is not burning either. 

Another test. And Sam knows what that means. This is the last one. He rips off the shreds of clothing that are still hanging on and walks as surely and proudly as he can. The rule of threes is the basis of all magical trials, and Sam has overcome this one. He wants his goal more than he wants to be safe. 

He can do this. Sam reaches the door, grips the burning hot metal knob, and turns it slowly, pushing to expose a room lined with mirrors, and lit by the pale lunar glow of Dean’s skin. His lover is curled up in the center of the room, staring at nothing, and Sam rushes forward hearing the door slam behind him as he does. 

“Dean? Dean! I’m here.”

The Darkling Prince, the leader of the Fae armies and the head of the Unseelie force, doesn’t respond. Instead he stays perfectly still, catatonic, chest rising and falling slowly. A voice breaks the deathly silence of the room behind him. 

He turns to see Oberon. 

“You’ve found him.”

Sam swallows and stands up. The king of the Seelie is standing in one of the mirrors looking at Sam with curiosity. 

“Yes.”

“But now what will you do?”

He’s finished the trials. He has to have. But what else is there? Where’s the brother? The champion that Oberon wanted?

“Take him home.”

It has to be another test. They’ve broken the rule of three. And why not? This is something directed by the powers that run Tir Na Nog. They don’t have to respect fairy tales. Sam wonders if the Oberon reflection is coming from within him, or from the walls of Under Hill. 

“You have yet to find my Champion Sam Winchester. You cannot leave.”

Sam turns back to Dean and looks at him lying there, so cold and weak. 

“There’s nowhere else to go. Nothing else to do. If his brother hasn’t come out yet he won’t. So you’ll just have to do without.”

“There’s still one place to go.”

Sam looks around the little dead end and then back at Oberon. 

“Where?”

But Oberon has no answers. He has nothing but to stare at Sam knowingly, and Sam doesn’t particularly care for it.

Sam kneels down beside Dean. If he can’t get Oberon to answer straight he’ll do what every Fae does best. He’ll talk sideways. 

“How did Dean become the champion for the Unseelie?”

Oberon tilts his head before expanding his hands and creating a brightly lit mirror chamber with a black gem inside of it. Sam watches as Dean plucks it out of a resting pedestal and lifts it high into the air. Dean looks so different. His face is so much…older there. As if he has reverse aged in the time since he met Sam. But Sam knows that isn’t accurate. Because Dean has all the mannerisms of someone from his time and place. 

So it’s a symbol for something. Or simply a trick to throw Sam off the trail. 

“What was the gem?”

Oberon smiles. 

“I can be stolen or given away and you will live, yet you cannot live without me.”

Sam wants to scream at him to answer the questions correctly. To just give him something. 

He has to stay calm. The answer is right there. He’s so annoyed because he knows that it’s right there, can feel the edges of it like a shape in the dark, but he just can’t decide what the whole is. 

“Oberon.”

“King Oberon. Yes?”

“Who was in the mirrors in that room?”

Oberon smiles then. Honestly. He steps through the mirror and crouches down beside Sam. 

“Why, Queen Siobhan was. What an odd thing to ask.”

Sam feels the object more clearly. The name is on the tip of his tongue. 

When Sam first arrived there was a lot of terminology that had to be learned. The Fae often had odd wording, and Sam would find himself butting heads with it on a constant basis. The hardest concept for him to grasp was the importance of wording. Every time Sam would brush something off as just an odd trick of phrasing or a simple mistake it would come back to bite him in the ass. 

The Fae had rules, thousands of rules, and as a byproduct they had millions of loopholes to them. Dean had taught him that a Fae’s word was binding, but only if the wording was airtight. 

And the oddest one, the one that had bothered Sam for so long but he hadn’t understood why, was when he first arrived and Kheelan would often call Dean his brother. It stopped not long after, but Sam had asked him once why he used the word. The Tinkerer’s response had always let an off taste in his mouth.

Is there not a brotherhood of man?

Because yes, there certainly was, but Dean was no longer a man. Not for many many years. 

Dean was a changeling, a Fae, the Darkling Prince. 

And Sam was not. 

I can be stolen or given away and you will live, yet you cannot live without me.

Sam strokes Dean’s short hair, feels the texture of it that he know so well. He takes Dean’s shoulder and pulls softly until he’s lying on his back. Then Sam leans down and kisses Dean’s cold lips once, very gently. 

“What does your Champion do?”

Oberon is watching him, so still that he could almost be a statue made of gold and green.

“Oversees creation. The whole of Tir Na Nog. Coordinates with the Darkling Prince to care for all of the Fae.”

“But he doesn’t fight him. Right? He doesn’t fight the Darkling Prince?”

“No. He does not fight him.”

Sam uses one hand to cover Dean’s blank and staring eyes. He uses the other to lift Dean’s shirt and feel along his sternum until he finds the steady beat he’s memorized. 

And then he reaches in and pulls. Plucks the blazing golden gem from Dean’s chest bloodlessly and wordlessly. He turns to look at Oberon’s approving gaze. 

“A very good job Champion. We will discuss the details later. I am sure that you have a reunion to attend.”

Sam turns to ask how they’ll get out but Oberon is gone. The gem is gone too. He pulls on Dean’s arm until he gets it up and around his shoulders, lifts up, and then walks out slowly and carefully with Dean hanging off of him. 

 

 

The sun is starting to rise when they emerge from the Callendish Stones. Sam blinks against it and then keeps walking, only slightly embarrassed by his lack of clothes in the bright light. Dean stirs slightly when the sunlight hits him and then falls further into Sam. 

One foot in front of the other Sam walks until they reach the shore and step into the water. The waves lick at Sam’s feet, sand sucking away under his toes every time they pull away, and he stops long enough to sit Dean down. He pulls off Dean’s shoes first, then his socks, and then reaches up to undo Dean’s jeans and strip them down and off. He removes Dean’s shirt and boxers much easier before he loops his brother’s arm around his shoulder again and then pulls him deeper into the water. To the point where the waves reach up to their chests and the spray occasionally hits their faces.

Sam watches the sun rise slowly, one arm looped around Dean and heels dug into the sand to anchor the two of them right there. The sky bursts with color, reds and pinks, blue lightening and brightening as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. 

He stays still, comfortable, the water the perfect temperature and the breeze pleasant and salty. Across the bay he hears cheering, jubilation, as the sun rises and the Fae celebrate its coming. 

“Sammy?”

He doesn’t turn his head. He watches as the bright white light peeks up announcing that the sun is almost here. 

“It’s morning.”

Dean tightens up and hunches down a little. 

“You know.”

Sam nods, eyes still on the horizon. Watching as the sun actually appears over the distant line and comes to being. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry Sam. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and I’m sorry I- I’m sorry I let us become this without you knowing what we are.”

“Kheelan told me. I didn’t know he told me, but I kinda did.”

Dean takes a deep breath beside him, and the arm around Sam tightens slightly.

“Do you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m a little confused on the language but I think I understand the premise. You became the Darkling Prince by loving me.”

“Yeah. It’s all about the will inside of you. Siobhan explained to me that she was adopting me, and that it was my decision. That I didn’t have to become this. But if I did it would give me the ability to find you. To get you back.”

“And you wanting to get me back was strong enough to make you the Darkling Prince.”

“Yes.”

“But if the Unseelie have a champion the Seelie have to as well.”

“And Oberon wanted it to be you. He wanted it to be a perfect balance, and he thought my other half would do that.”

“So I’m the- what? Daylight Prince?”

Dean’s lips press against his temple, cool and soft, and Sam keeps his eyes on the sun, no longer bothered by the usually blinding luminescence. It’s odd, how he can still recognize how bright it is but not be overwhelmed by it. 

“Yes.”

“You didn’t want that?”

“I wanted you to have a choice.”

“So you let them lock you up in a dungeon to give me the choice instead of asking me?”

“You had to do the trials whether I told you or not, but I didn’t want you to do it because I asked you.”

Sam takes several deep breaths, eyes still locked on the sun. 

“You’re an idiot.”

Dean’s arm tightens and his voice is shocked. 

“What?”

“You’re an idiot! I’m not a little kid anymore. You asking me wouldn’t have changed why I did it or whether I did it. We’re partners! We’re brothers! I can make an informed decision and you’re dumb for acting like I can’t. Plus, you’re super dumb for leaving without telling Kheelan where you were going because he’s not going to build you anything for the next sixty years.”

Sam finally turns to look at his brother, and when he does he feels warmth and satisfaction flow through him. Dean is smiling. Dean is wearing a huge smile and it makes Sam feel full. 

He doesn’t have to ask Dean why. He knows what Dean feeds on, and now he knows what he feeds on too. And why Dean is the way he is after eating. 

It feels amazing. 

Sam leans in and kisses Dean and it feels even better. When he tilts his head Dean opens his mouth and the kiss deepens. Dean tastes salty, ocean water clinging to his lips and still lightly spraying their faces, and Sam wishes they were at home in the big tub with fresh water and the smooth slip of porcelain. 

Apparently he wishes it so strongly that they’re actually there, because Sam feels the porcelain before he opens his eyes and sees the familiar bathroom and the comfortable setting he’s soaked in so often. When Dean opens his eyes he smiles around at the room. 

“Guess I won’t be impressing you with any more magic, huh Sammy?”

“I guess not.” 

Sam slips onto Dean’s lap and kisses him again, slow and sweet, before nipping at Dean’s lower lip. His brother moans, and Sam feels a heady thrill that he’s never had before. He can feel every bit of lust and joy and love in Dean. He can sense how hard Dean is before he even slips his hand down his brother’s body to grip his dick tightly. 

Every move is doubled, Sam is literally getting off on Dean getting off. He loosens his grip, lines his dick up with Dean’s, and feels the burst of pleasure as the head of his cock strokes the flesh of Dean’s shaft before the tips catch on each other. He grips them both together and starts to stroke as he moans into Dean’s mouth. 

Dean moans back, hips moving and hands settling on Sam’s sides. Until now his brother has had to be careful with Sam, he knows that, but now they’re equal. Now they’re perfectly matched. Sam keeps stroking, feeding off of Dean’s pleasure as his own builds. 

Then Dean slaps gently at his hand and Sam lets go and puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders before lifting himself up and then angling downward to try to catch Dean just right. The head presses against his hole, pauses for a brief moment as Sam makes eye contact with Dean, and then he pushes down hard and slips to the base of his brother’s dick in one easy movement. 

It’s fascinating. The whole thing. Seeing Dean’s pleasure as well as feeling it, knowing that Dean’s doing the same. It’s almost frenzying really, because they’re feeding each other in a never-ending loop of love and pleasure. Sam twists his hips and gasps at the gratification Dean gets from it, Dean wraps his fingers around Sam’s dick and twitches inside of Sam from the feedback loop they’ve become. 

Sam has to let go of Dean’s shoulders and grip his brother’s face, look into his eyes to anchor him close and clear. They stay that way, Sam riding Dean, Dean jerking Sam off, and the two of them staring intently until finally Dean’s eyes fly shut as he comes and Sam is overwhelmed by the wave of the orgasm and follows his brother down. 

They lay in the water panting and clinging to each other, Dean softening inside of Sam as birds chirp outside and the Seelie celebration continues loudly. 

“If it’s always like that, how do you survive?”

Dean laughs, his chest vibrating against Sam’s, and shifts a little bit to slip out of him. 

“You get used to it. Learn to control it a little bit. With time it’s not so overwhelming.”

Sam isn’t sure that’s possible, but he’s willing to experiment to find out. 

 

 

The next day they have a knighting ceremony, and Sam is uncomfortable in the dress clothes that were brought to him in the morning. Half the clearing is in bright sunshine, the other half drenched in shadow and darkness. The Unseelie shoot him looks, from supportive to dismissive, but the Seelie are infinitely harder to read in this moment. Some have shared unpleasant words with Sam before, and it’s hard for him to imagine that their unending pride isn’t injured in this moment. 

Dean stands on the shaded side of the platform, shorter than Queen Siobhan beside him but looking just as intimidating as her. On the other side Oberon waits, his antlers decorated a little extra than the last time Sam saw him, and his lips curled into a golden smile that reflects the sunlight. He steps to the edge of the platform and holds out a hand, and Sam reluctantly takes it. 

When he’s up on the boards the crowd behind him starts to cheer and clap. Sam doesn’t turn to look at them, instead his eyes slide past Oberon to Dean and Siobhan. His brother is smiling, proud and wide, and the queen beside him is expressionless. Sam looks back to Oberon and then kneels when he sees the king’s hand gesture for it. 

“Fae of the Seelie and Unseelie courts! Gaze upon the champion of the Seelie! The protector of creation and light! View, for the first time, the Daylight Prince, our Samuel Winchester!”

Something hot lands on Sam’s right shoulder, lifts up and kisses his hair before touching the other side, and then Sam lifts his head and sees the flaming sword. Oberon holds it out to him, hilt first, and Sam takes the blade without fear of burning. He turns to the crowd as Oberon settles a hand on his shoulder. 

“Celebrate my friends! The long night is over, and finally ‘tis morning!”

Oberon leaves the stage and heads for the bright festival grounds beyond where the other Seelie Fae trail behind talking and laughing as they prepare for another day of singing and dancing. Tonight, when they have all retired and the sun has dropped below the horizon the Unseelie will have their own celebration. Sam knows because Dean has told him. Has comforted him in the fact that some of his oldest friends here will not be lost because of his new title. 

“You did very well for my son. Thank you.”

Sam sheathes the sword and turns to face the Queen of Night. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

Dean steps up beside Sam, fingers linking with his and eyes questioning what exactly Sam thinks he’s doing. 

“Of course dear, ask anything.”

“When you and Oberon talked Dean into going into the bottom of the Callendish Stones, deep into Under Hill, did you send him any protection at all or was he just going to rot there if I failed?” 

The dark eyes, little pinpricks of what might be stars twinkling in the depths of a mind Sam is sure he cannot even begin to fathom, tilt as she smiles at him. 

“Do you think once my son entered the underworld I would allow you to fail?”

His brother steps up then, mouth curling awkwardly as he slings his arm around Sam. 

“What she means Sammy, is that she knew you’d do it. Of course you’d do it.”

Sam shoots his brother a disbelieving look before he turns back to Siobhan. 

“I just want to make sure you wouldn’t do that.”

Siobhan looks up to the bright sky beyond her shadow line, over to Dean’s hopeful and believing face, and then back to Sam. Her expression is calm, but there’s a pride there that Sam can’t miss. 

And that’s all the answer he really needs. 

“I believe it is time for me to go to bed. After all, thanks to Sam ‘tis morning.”

With that she’s gone, and Sam’s left alone with Dean as the two sides slip off to their respective destinations. 

“She’s really great isn’t she?”

He nods, kisses his brother’s cheek, and then leads Dean back to the house where they can collapse back together into bed for their own celebration.


End file.
